


The Sound Of The Alarm

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3450179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alarm goes off for the fourth time this week, but for once it's not Jemma's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound Of The Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the usual fire alarm trope, tbc I am not a fan on the "mundane au" prompt, it is way too vague, and as a result I'm not 100% satisfied with this, but it fills a bingo square so I'm publishing it.

 

She groans at the sound of a fire alarm, interrupting her evening of ice cream and the local news.

This is the fourth time, in the past week, that the fire alarm in her apartment complex has gone off.

It is also coincidently the seventeenth time in the past month that the alarm had gone off.

Most of the other residents of her apartment complex had believing the frequency of their fire alarms to be faulty wiring, or a resident who can just never remember to turn on the fan over their stove, but Jemma knew better.

This was because sixteen out of those seventeen times, in the past month, Jemma had been the cause of the fire alarm going off.

For a second after it goes off, her first thought is to check the experiments, checking and then double checking that she hadn’t left anything on or started another _very minor_ fire in the makeshift lab she casually calls her spare bed room.

But a quick survey tells her the very same conclusion that she had come to upon first hearing the sound of the alarm – that for _once_ – it was not her fault the fire alarm went off.

Jemma grabs a sweater off her desk chair, and pulls it on, before reluctantly slipping out her apartment door and following the rest of the inhabitants of her complex down the stairs and outside the building.

As she reaches the rest of the crowd, her eyes scan the mass of people for one person in particular. Bobbi Morse, otherwise known as the extremely attractive woman that lives across the hall from  her, and the only person that knows that Jemma is usually to blame for the fire alarms.

She had found out by accident – or well, Bobbi who worked nights at a local bar – had complained loudly the first time the alarm had gone off right after she got off work, and Jemma had felt so terrible about it that she baked her apology cookies. Jemma had intended to ding-dong ditch the cookies outside her door, but that plan hadn’t gone off so well, and when confronted Jemma had never been a particularly good liar.

Bobbi had only grumbled at minute, before she had ushered Jemma inside, accepted the cookies as an apology and turned out to not only be extremely attractive, but also one of the nicest people in the world.

Jemma might be a little bit in love with her, just maybe.

“It’s not my fault,” are the first words out of Jemma’s lips when she sees Bobbi finally coming out of the building, “I know the last three were definitely me, but _this_ time, it wasn’t.”

“I know,” Bobbi tells her, just a bit too quickly, and Jemma blinks at her in surprise.

“Wait, how do you know?”

There’s a second where they silently stare at each other, before Bobbi pulls her off to the side and whispers, “I set the alarm off.”

“You set-“ There’s a hand over her mouth before she can finish her sentence.

“Not too loud,” Bobbi tells her, nervously glancing around at the rest of their very pissed off neighbors, “I was hungry and I forgot to add water to the soup, it’s no big deal.”

“You’re not hurt are you,” Jemma says, her eyes quickly sweeping over the other woman with clear concern.

“I’m fine, well I’m exhausted and starving but otherwise I’m fine,” she reassures her, “I know how to put out burning plastic.”

Jemma wrinkles her nose, already imaging in the smell and deciding that that would have been an altogether unpleasant experience. At least, when she set the alarms off, it usually was for scentless steam or bubbling experiments that were _generally_ non-toxic.

Though once she pushes that out of her mind, she’s able to remember the rest of Bobbi’s complaints and she can’t help but blurt out – “there’s a Denny’s down the street.”

“What does that have anything to do with the smoke alarm?”

“It doesn’t, not exactly,” Jemma says, nodding her head as she talks, “but oh, you said you were hungry, and they serve great pancakes, we could get them _pancakes_ that is, together, and by time we finish the firemen might have already fixed the alarms. Plus then we won’t have to listen to the rest of our neighbors plan our deaths.”

That last bit got a laugh out of Bobbi, “you know what, pancakes sounds great.”

“Oh, and Bobbi.”

“Yes?”

“Next time you’re hungry just knock on my door, instead of burning the apartment complex down.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling ever so slightly as she replies, “I’ll keep that in mind.”


End file.
